Miss Sybbie's question
by Onesimus42
Summary: The children of Downton seek out the wisest members of staff to find answers to the burning question of life.
1. Miss Sybbie's Question

**_A short ficlet based on a OTP prompt at Tumblr._**

**_Disclaimer: I own nothing but Charles's smugness. _**

Honestly, if he hadn't been distracted he'd have known something was up. Sybbie was as wise and sly as her mother had been. He took a moment to smile at distant memories (though they seemed like only days past), that would now forever be tinged with melancholy, of the young lady who'd died far before her time.

She had begun, as all wise women do when wanting something from a man, with flattery.

"Mr. Carson, Aunt Mary says you're the smartest man she knows. Is that right?" the little girl asked.

He held back a proud smile. No need to get puffed up. Lady Mary was likely just being kind, although he did feel that he knew a great deal about a wide variety of subjects and was gratified that someone at least had paid attention. "Well, I don't know about that Miss Sybbie, but I do try to learn all I can."

Sybbie smiled at him and somehow stole another tiny bit of his heart. He had thought his heart had completely belonged to another woman for what seemed like a lifetime, but he always seemed to find more to freely give away to the smiles of the children.

"You would answer any question wouldn't you?" she asked and looked at him with such wide pleading eyes that he would have gladly spun straw into gold. Those wide eyes should have made him far more suspicious that he'd been. Devious child.

"I will certainly try," he agreed with his kindest smile.

She bit her lip and reminded him forcefully of the owner of the greatest part of his heart. If he was not already completely smitten with this child, he would have been lost completely.

"It's just that Daddy didn't seem to know."

He would have liked to have said that warning bells went off in his head then, but he was still unfortunately oblivious. Stupid man that he was.

"Well, your father doesn't have the benefit of my years of experience," he said benevolently.

She smiled brightly at him and asked her question, "Where will Aunt Mary's baby come from?"

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He was now scowling at the woman he found most dear in the world and sorely tempted to throttle her. Or kiss her. Times like this could be quite confusing.

She sputtered out between hiccupping laughter, "France?! You told Miss Sybbie that babies come from France?"

"Well, I was put on the spot," he said huffily but began to see the humor in the whole episode himself and a grin threatened to break through.

"But France? Whatever made you think of France?" she asked.

He tugged down his waistcoat and said, "Well that is where Lady Mary had her honeymoon. I just told Miss Sybbie that she ordered the child there, and it would be delivered at a later date."

She laughed so hard now that she snorted in a decidedly un-ladylike but completely adorable manner. He couldn't hold back a laugh either.

"Well, she ordered something at any rate," she said.

"Elsie Carson!" he said in shock, but laughter increasing. With a tug on the hand he held, he pulled her from his desk to settle in his lap.

She smiled up at him and stroked his jaw before he bent to kiss her.

"Perhaps we should go to France," he suggested when he pulled back.

Her eyes clouded for a moment, "Charles, love, we can do all the ordering we like; there'll be no deliveries for us."

He smiled sadly and kissed her eyes, trying to chase the clouds away. "Perhaps not, but the ordering is just as fun, and we can enjoy other deliveries; Miss Sybbie, Master George, Young William and Gwen…"

She smiled and lifted her lips to his again. Her tender kiss was soon interrupted by another bout of laughter.

"France!"

He huffed, "Fair enough. I'll tell Master George they come from Italy."

_**Reviews are welcome as always**_


	2. Mrs Hughes' answer

_**And now for Mrs. Hughes' answer to the question.**_

Honestly, the boy had just taken her off guard. She hadn't thought he was old enough to ask such things yet. She should have known better. Boys were always trouble, even when they were older. Her thoughts strayed to the tall, gray-haired one that occupied most of her heart, sometimes especially when they were older.

This boy, however, was spending his afternoon attempting to steal a few sweets from the kitchens and succeeding in stealing a large piece of her heart. No matter what she thought of his mother, young Master George was an enticing mixture of gentleness, inherited from his father no doubt, and mischievousness, definitely inherited from his mother. She never failed to think that her own children, and she would only have ever had children with one man, might have been something like this lad.

He asked a thousand questions and while she tried to give them all due attention, she couldn't deny that her mind wandered at times. Perhaps that was how he had surprised her. Thinking back on the conversation, she could remember how he began.

"Mrs. Carson, do you know everything?" he asked, keeping his attention on not spilling his milk.

Distracted, she was sure that she had just given her usual response, "Mmmmhmmm," which he naturally took as an affirmative answer.

"Even more than Mr. Carson?" he continued, and she would like to have said that she was alerted to danger at that point. Unfortunately, the writing on the linen rota was irksomely small, and her arms could not hold it quite far enough away to make out the tiny print. She was going to have to break down and wear her glasses. Beryl would tease her unmercifully. On the other hand, Charles found them attractive. He seemed to find most things about her attractive, especially all the things that she did not. After smiling at this thought, she realized that she needed to answer the lad. An affirmative would do. It usually did.

"Of course, Master George," she said with a gentle smile.

Then, proving that the males of the species have no patience, his next words came out in a rush, "Mr. Carson-told-Sybbie-that-babies-come-from-France-but-that's-silly-Everyone-knows-that-nothing-good-comes-from-France-but-wine-at-least-that's-what-Grandfather-says-So-I-knew-that-you-would-know-and-you'd-never-lie." He paused briefly to take a deep breath, "Where do babies come from Mrs. Hughes?"

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She was now glaring at the irksome, tall, gray-haired boy who occupied almost all of her heart and trying to remind herself what she'd ever found attractive about his broad shoulders, cleft chin, hazel eyes, large hands, and… Well, she supposed there was no mystery as to why she found him attractive, but there was a mystery as to why she hadn't given in to the impulse to brain him ages ago. Frustratingly lovely man that he was.

He had actually fallen over on the bed laughing, and each time he tried to stop he looked at her and began again. Finally, he was able to splutter out, "Kangaroos? You told Master George that kangaroos bring babies?"

"Well, it's better than France," she said indignantly and huffed, although she was beginning to see the humor in the situation.

"Perhaps they're French kangaroos," he snorted and started hiccoughing with laughter again.

"French kangaroos! Whoever heard of such a thing?" she asked and a giggle escaped her as well, and she sank down on the bed beside him.

He stretched out his arm for her to lie on, and she curled into his side to enjoy the vibrations of laughter through his chest. After a few more bursts of laughter, he turned toward her and lifted the glasses from her nose before kissing it softly. "Whatever made you think of kangaroos?"

She sighed, "There was a picture book lying on my desk. A kangaroo was on the front. They have those big pockets on the front. It seemed sensible enough at the time."

"Very sensible," he nodded, but the smile and a small burst of laughter broke through.

"Oh you," she said, batting his chest in frustration, "you were going to tell him Italy."

"Oh yes," he said, nodding again very seriously, "He'll be much less confused now."

"Charles," she warned, but couldn't resist leaning forward to kiss the corner of his smile.

He turned his head slightly to catch her lips more fully. After a few moments of exploration, he said, "Have I ever told you how very attractive you are in glasses?"

She smiled, "You may have once or twice, Mr. Carson, but I wouldn't mind you showing me once again."

He pulled her closer and leaned forward to kiss her again but stopped just short of her lips, "Wait, why was there a picture book on your desk?"

"Ahh," she said, tugging on his tie, "Well, a French kangaroo may be coming to Yorkshire in the near future."

"The Bates?"

She shook her head, "The Molesleys"

_**Reviews are welcome as always.**_


	3. The Right Answer

_**The answer of another member of the staff.**_

"You told them what?!" Mr. Carson was flabbergasted, and while usually Mrs. Carson rolled her eyes at his theatrics, for once she agreed with him.

"Really, Mrs. Patmore," she said, "Do you think that was the wisest thing to have done?"

The cook put her hands on her hips and rolled her eyes sufficiently for both of them, "For heaven's sake, it's not as though I drew diagrams."

Charles's eyes widened to saucers and his ears turned bright pink, "I should hope not!"

Mrs. Patmore couldn't contain the flippant remark that leapt to her tongue, "I'm not that good of an artist."

Elsie admonished her sharply, "Beryl!" Unfortunately, the sternness of the rebuke was hindered by the giggle which escaped as well.

Charles glared at her, "I fail to see what is so amusing in this scenario."

Now Elsie did roll her eyes at that, "For goodness sake, Charles, I doubt that Beryl is leading the children into decrepitude like the Pied Piper of Ripon."

"But, but," he spluttered and his eyes darted back and forth between them both, and then he threw up his hands in surrender, "I give up. When you two team up against me I never win. Beryl, at least tell me exactly what you told them so that I can explain to Mr. Bates when he no doubt confronts _me_ about how _we _have been corrupting his children."

Beryl crossed her arms in front of her chest and fixed him with a steady glance, "I suppose I could do that, if you'll apologize."

"I!" he said indignantly, "I apologize?"

"Thank you, apology accepted," Beryl nodded. Elsie put her hand on his arm to forestall any further harsh words. He glanced down at her and she mouthed the words, "Apple tart," to him. She did have a point. No one could quite make his favorite pudding like Beryl.

He clenched his jaw and fixed his attention on the smug cook, hoping that she would explain before the headache that was threatening attacked.

Beryl said, "I really don't understand what you're upset about. Where would you have them learn this?"

Charles's rejoinder was slightly quicker than Elsie's, "On the street just as I did."

Elsie fixed him with a disbelieving glare.

Beryl fixed her eyes on Charles as well, "Do you really want our little Gwen learning that from some young lad who takes it upon himself to teach her?"

His shoulders rolled uncomfortably, and his jaw clenched tighter, "Not unless he wants me to rip his…"

"Charles!" Elsie stopped him.

His hand went to his forehead, and he sighed, "I will concede that you have a point, but, please, just tell me what you told the Bates' twins."

Beryl smiled, "Well, it was William that asked. Bright lad. He would have never believed some tale about a stork. What was I supposed to tell them? That babes were found under cabbage leaves? Or brought by French kangaroos?"

Elsie blushed, "I was just taken by surprise, you know that."

"And children are not delivered by the French," Charles explained patiently, "Merely ordered there."

Both women glanced at him and then each other before rolling their eyes in unison.

Beryl continued, "Anyway, I just asked him where he thought they came from. He told me that he thought the baby was going to come from his mother's belly, but Gwen explained that they couldn't understand how it got there."

Charles's face was positively flaming by now, and he glanced at the floor to see if a hole might possibly appear that he could jump into. He thought he might never have prayed as fervently for a bell to ring as he did at that moment.

Elsie prompted Beryl however, "And what did you tell them?"

Beryl said with a smile, "I just told them that a baby was a gift that came from the love that two people have for each other, after they are married. They deduced that that meant kissing."

Charles had nearly been holding his breath, "So you didn't tell them anything else?"

"No," she said, "I thought that was quite enough for one day, and they seemed satisfied. Their parents can explain more."

"Quite right," Elsie nodded, "We'll just send them to their parents if they ask again."

Charles agreed in relief and turned to go to his pantry in search of a Beecham's powder. Unfortunately, he was not going to be left in peace to find it. His wife followed him. Usually something he looked forward to eagerly, but at the moment he would have preferred avoidance.

"On the street?" she asked, "You learned that on the street?"

"Well, not completely," he said, "I mean my father was a groom, so I knew the basic mechanics…"

"But the finesse?" she asked, with an expression he couldn't quite place, "I mean like the thing that you do with your, um, when you, um, you know?"

He turned back to her. She was so forthright about so many things, that her reticence about love-making never failed to entrance him. He wrapped his arm around her and drew her close enough to speak low into her ear, "Do you mean when I taste you, Mrs. Carson?"

She nodded, eyes fixed on his shoulder.

He shook his head, "I've only ever tasted one woman in my life, and that only because I dreamed of all the things I could do with her for fifteen years before I first held her hand."

Her hand came up to cup his cheek, and she smiled against his lips before kissing him. When she pulled back, she said, "Then will you show me tonight what you did learn on the streets?"

He shook his head, headache fully gone despite not finding the Beecham's powder. "I'll show you a few more of my dreams."

_**Reviews are welcome as always**_


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